


Our Tale to Tell

by supergreak



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Adoption, Future Fic, HP: EWE, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-12
Updated: 2010-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-11 17:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supergreak/pseuds/supergreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every Hogwarts graduate knows that a good story always starts with <i>"This one time, at Hogwarts..."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Tale to Tell

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to abusing_sarcasm for the fantastic beta job.

**The Quibbler Magazine**

  


 _January 22, 2002_

 **Reporter Lovegood:** Thank you for coming here today.  


 **Draco Malfoy:** You're welcome.  


 **Harry Potter:** It was our pleasure, Luna.  


 **LL:** And how have your snorkacks been?  


 **HP:** Fine, thank you. And your billywigs?  


 **DM:** (laughs)  


 **LL:** They've finally recovered from their colds. Now, what _The Quibbler_ 's readers want to know is how you two got together. It's commonly known that you didn't get on well in school.  


 **DM:** That's a rather long story. This one time, at Hogwarts...  


 **HP:** (laughs) It was in that year of Reconstruction. I got assigned to help out the remaining Slytherins, because-  


 **DM:** -because there weren't any of us left, and some of the portraits would only respond to a Parselmouth. Stubborn things.  


 **LL:** So the rumours are true, then? You kept your Parseltongue talent after the defeat of Thomas Riddle?  


 **HP:** Yes. Apparently Dumbledore was wrong, and the ability wasn't linked to my scar.  


 **DM:** Very fortunate, that. That bloody portrait of Salazar by Snape's quarters wouldn't respond to anything else. Stubborn git.  


 **LL:** Are you telling me that the founder of Slytherin house is stubborn?  


 **HP:** Most definitely. The portrait controls all of the surrounding ones and most of the walls and wards as well, in the absense of a Head of House.  


 **DM:** So we got into this corridor, and then Potter just _had_ to insult Slytherin House.  


 **HP:** I just said it was dark and scary in the dungeons!  


 **DM:** And damp, and depressing. So Slytherin didn't like that, at all. He locks us both in this narrow corridor, and the rocks actually [CENSORED] move to block off the entrance.  


 **HP:** So we spent three days down there...  


 **DM:** fighting...  


 **HP:** bickering...  


 **DM:** beating each other up...  


 **HP:** talking about the War, and people who had died...  


 **DM:** and friendship, and why we hated each other...  


 **HP:** And Oliver Wood's arse...  


 **DM:** and surviving on a couple candy bars and some squished sandwiches. By the time we got out, we, well, didn't hate each other any more.  


 **LL:** If rumors are to be believed, you did more than _talk_ down there.  


 **HP:** Well, people will think what they wish.  


 **DM:** Any other questions?  


 **LL:** Oh, yes. Were you expecting to tell anyone about this development in your personal lives, or was the Prophet's outing a surprise?  


 **DM:** As much as we disagree with disagree with the tactics of that rag, we don't regret them telling the world about our relationship.  


 **HP:** It was getting tiring, having to be so discrete all the time. I was glad I could finally be honest with my friends.  


 **LL:** And how did they take it?  


 **HP:** To be honest, most of our friends thought it was a rather spectacular prank. I do believe some of them  


 **DM:** (coughs)Ron(coughs)  


 **HP:** ...still expect me to jump up and say "surprise" any day now. But on the whole, they've taken it rather well. Mrs. Weasley, who's like a mother to me, is savoring having yet _another_ son to feed.  


 **LL:** That's nice to hear. Now, is there any truth to the rumors of a "Harry Potter" calendar?

 **\-------Approximately Eight Years Later...-------**

A small boy dragged an ancient knapsack dejectedly behind him as he came home from primary school one day. Coming in the front door, he ran to his father, a freelance maker and developer of potions, which meant that he was always home when little Jack needed him. His father set down the book he was reading and knelt down, opening his arms to accept his son.

"Papa, papa! Everyone at school today was calling me a liar, because they said that I wasn't telling the truth, because we were in art centers and I drew a picture of my family, just like Ms. Monty told me to do, and I was following instructions, Papa, I really was, and I drew you, and Daddy, and me, and Spot, 'cause that's my family, but Suzy P. asked where my Mum was, and I said I didn't _have_ a mum, because boys were better, anyway, and she went and told the entire class that I was _lying_ , Papa, and Daddy told me to never, ever lie, unless someone's life was in danger, or it was for a prank, and nobody was dying, so I wasn't lying, and..."  


Draco Malfoy sat heavily on the floor, holding the crying child close to his chest. "Slow down, squirt. You're going to run out breath before long. You drew a picture of your family, and everyone said you were lying when you said you had two fathers?"

  
"Yes! Because Sandra says it's 'mpossible for a family to have a baby without a Mum, and I don't have one." The pout looked absolutely adorable on his five-year-old face. "Where did I come from, if I don't have a Mum?"

  
 _Merlin's Balls, not this already. Okay, short version._ Draco thought, hoping for the right words to come to him. "Well, Jack, every baby is born from a Mum. But sometimes, the Mum can't take care of the baby. In your case, the story goes like this:

 _  
This one time, I was at Hogwarts, teaching the Advanced Potions class as a guest speaker. Your Dad was there, too, helping out in the Defense classes for the week. At that same time, there was a student who was about to have a baby. Yes, that was you, Jack. Are you going to let me tell the story? Anyway, she was really too young to be having children, and when you popped out, she took one look and promptly gave up. She said, 'This kid is way too handsome and bright for me, and I'd make a terrible mother. I wonder if there's somebody else that would do better at raising him than me?' And of course, your Dad likes to swoop in and save people, so he promised her that we'd take you home until someone else was found. But then we actually_ met _you, and we just decided not to give you up. And she was okay with that. So we adopted you with a spell, and now you really_ are _our son, by blood and by magic and by your Daddy's glasses, if not by birth...Hmm? Oh, we're blokes, and we just don't have the right equipment for having kids...No, you may not have a little sister...okay, maybe if someone left a baby on our doorstep, but that's never going to happen. Oh, Harry, you're home! What?! There's a baby on our front lawn? Was there a note?...Well, I guess you get a sister, Jack...no, we will not name her 'Sissy'..._

...and so life goes on.

 **\-------The Small Boy Grows Up-------**

"I'm home!" Harry called, hanging his work robes in the hall closet. He followed the sound of the latest _Dissendium_ hit to the kitchen, where he found the counters covered in cauldrons and scales and a large lump of Parmesan cheese. He could hear Draco singing, he just couldn't see his husband. Harry walked around the counter and into the kitchen, where Draco was in barefoot, in ripped jeans and a faded Gryffindor t-shirt, slicing salamander tails on Harry's new cutting board.  


"What on earth? Draco! What have you done to the kitchen?"  


Draco looked up and blew his bangs out of his face. "Oh! Harry! I had an idea, see, about that Sanguinis Potion that Hallsley gave up on last year. But the lab was closed for the day, you know, because of the budget cutbacks? And so I had to start on it here, before I forgot what I was going to try. This could be it! The end of blood lust for vampires! But I just had to keep going once I got started." He tossed the tails into the first cauldron. "See, this one's going well so far. The pH has to be kept as close to 7.35 as possible, without going dramatically in either direction as I add ingredients, but I can't have any buffers, which ruin the potion." He pointed to a black mess in another cauldron. "Here, I added the garlic all at the same time without any snake teeth. Boiled down to that in about thirty seconds. But I think the cheese made the real difference."  


Harry smiled. "You keep at it, then. You haven't eaten today since, oh, about ten AM when you had this sudden brainwave?" He smiled at Draco's bashful nod. "I'll just go get some carry-away, then." He kissed Draco's cheek, avoiding the knife in his hand, before carefully stepping out of the kitchen. Grabbing his coat, he stepped walked down the street to the corner Chinese place they both liked.  


When he stepped back into the house carrying lo mein and orange chicken, there were no explosions or pop songs there for him. Instead, a grim-faced Draco was waiting, fires beneath cauldrons hastily extinguished.

"Harry, we've got a problem. Longbottom called, and apparently Jack's in big trouble...bad enough to call a full parent conference."

Harry gaped. "Draco, we broke every rule Hogwarts had, between the two of us. What could possibly call for a parent-teacher conference?"  


Draco's voice was tense. "I don't know, but the Floo would be the fastest way there to find out. And remember, Longbottom's not Dumbledore. He's a lot more equitable on the rules, and that means they're actually enforced."  


Harry sighed and glared at the fireplace. Throwing a pinch of Floo powder into the new flames, he shouted "Hogwarts!", and stepped in. A few minutes of soot and nausea later, he stumbled out into a familiar office. Feeling Draco press up behind him, he stepped forward and collapsed into the red armchair. Draco looked around for another chair, shrugged, and sat down in Harry's lap.

  
Neville cleared his throat. "Er, sorry about that. Some pranksters stole my second chair last week, and you know how I am at Transfiguration. But onto the topic at hand...."

  
"Yes?"Harry asked, foot tapping anxiously. "Jack's in trouble?"  


Neville nodded. "Yes, unfortunately. He's usually rather well behaved, well, for a Potter at least," At this, Draco snorted. "But his behavior is simply inexcusable. It seriously jeopardized the well-being of another student, showing blatant disregard for about thirty rules and common sense, as well. I figured you two would do better scaring some sense into him than I would. The students just don't think I'm intimidating.

  
Both parents heaved a sigh. Draco actually growled a bit before asking, "Okay, what'd he do?"  


"He used an unknown spell on another student that he was duelling with, out of bounds, past curfew, and the other student is still in the hospital wing. The spell seems to give a never-ending, severely compounded, full-body case of a Muggle venereal disease. He says the spell was syphillusempra, scrawled on the bathroom wall in marker. I don't understand _why_ he'd ever trust a spell written on a sodding bathroom wall, but that's his story."  


  
Harry winced. "Oh, God, no." He wrapped his arms around Draco, who'd suddenly started shaking. With good reason. "Neville, can you give us, oh, a good half-hour to talk to our son? This particular violation of rules has hit rather close to home, and I'd rather not discuss it outside the family."  


The Headmaster nodded, and stood. "He's waiting just outside, so I'll let him in. If you destroy any furniture, please repair it." He made a quick exit, nodding at the petrified young Potter-Malfoy waiting outside.  


"Sit down, Jack." Draco cleared his throat. "I'm positive that Headmaster Longbottom has plentiful punishments awaiting you the second you exit this office, so I won't lecture. Or yell. As soon as your Dad stops looking like he's going to puke into the Pensieve-please Conjure yourself a bucket, Harry, I don't wish to clean up vomit- he'll do all the shouting you can handle. I think it's a tradition for him to either shout or cry every time he's in here. Or accuse me of being evil. As you know, Harry spent quite a bit of time in this office growing up, and you seem to have inherited that trait. Getting in trouble is acceptable, Jack, and frankly, I'd be worried if you never got detention. But this blatant show of stupidity is taking it too far. You were raised to think before you acted. You obviously didn't learn your lesson, so I'm going to tell you a little story, about two young men, a bathroom, and a spell with unknown results. This one time, at Hogwarts..."

 _  
...I was ordered by the Dark Lord to get the Death Eaters into the school. I'm sure you remember this part of the story: the Vanishing Cabinet, the Room of Requirement, dismal failure every step of the way, and your Dad stalking me for most of the year. I was getting pressure from Dumbledore to switch sides, from Professor Snape to let him help me, from my father to succeed and get us back into the Dark Lord's favor, the Dark Lord to succeed, Pansy to have sex with her when she was annoyingly clingy and ugly to boot, from Crabbe and Goyle to tell them what they were helping me with, and from my Professors-my grades were in the dungeons. I turned to the only sympathetic ear I could find: Moaning Myrtle. She_ never _made fun of me, and wouldn't tell my secrets to anyone._  


 _One day, I was telling her about a particularly_ painful _meeting I'd had with the Dark Lord the night before, bawling my eyes out, when who of all people should come into the bathroom but Harry-sodding-Potter of all people. Don't interrupt me, and yes, this was when we still hated each other. So he comes into the bathroom, insults fly, and before I know it, I'm flinging a Cruciatus, and Harry shouts a spell I've never heard before: Sectumsempra. You know that scar I've got on my chest? The spell means "cut forever", and it's literal. He sliced me right open, down the chest. It hurt like nothing else. The blood was flowing all over the bathroom floor, and if Professor Snape hadn't come along right then, I'd be dead. And Harry? He didn't mean to kill me. He just used a spell, scrawled in the margins of an old Potions book, marked_ for enemies _. He's a noble little Gryffindor sod that killed the Dark Lord with_ expelliarmus _, of all things. I doubt he's ever actually cast a successful_ Avada Kedavra _. Nevertheless, he almost killed me that day._

"...and that, Jack, is the danger in using an unknown spell on a human being. It can have unknown circumstances. I'm sure you were very angry. But nothing, _nothing_ , can possibly be done to you that can merit an accidental death. And yes, that boy can die from _syphillusempra_. I can figure out the results just by taking the latin roots, for mercy's sake. Do you have _any_ defense for this, whatsoever?"  


Jack at least had the good sense to act repentant. "He insulted Chloe's honor. No excuse, I know.

Harry finally Vanished his bucket and stood up. "Merlin's pants, that adoption spell transferred more than a last name and myopia. Have you learned your lesson, Jack?"  


Jack nodded. "Unknown spells are bad, midnight duels are bad, getting caught is bad."  


The last bit got a slight smile from Draco, which he quickly tempered. "Just- _think_ before you act, Jack, that's all I ask. All we ask." He sent his Patronus out the door to find Neville, who stepped back in after only a moment's delay. "Jack's going to need this lesson reinforced for quite some time. Say, scrubbing graffiti off bathroom walls every Saturday for the rest of term, noting every unknown spell and writing an essay on the possible effects of each and every one."  


Neville nodded, leaning against the back of the door. "Seems a bit easy, Draco. Sure you don't want to ask Filch if his chains are still oiled? Find Umbridge's lovely quill? I got flogged for less than this. You haven't seen the Zabini boy."  


Jack looked positively petrified.  


Harry shook his head a few times, then laughed at Jack's expression. "He's joking, Jack. Well, mostly joking. You are getting off lightly, but we won't have you flogged. You wouldn't learn your lesson. But, in addition to the detentions, I believe you should get a taste of Umbridge. No teams, clubs, activities. You will be escorting your...victim, to each and every class, taking notes for him, helping with his homework, and applying all healing potions he needs until he is completely healed. You will be required to publicly apologize, and you will write weekly, telling us everything you learn about your _enemy_." He spat the final word. "There is more to young Mr. Zabini than a house and a few physical attributes, but you single him out for things he can't change, because you refuse to get to know him. I've heard enough talk about your rivalry, and it's gotten out of hand. There will be no more bullies in the Potter family."  


Jack gaped.  


Neville exhaled loudly. "That'll do the trick. If you'll excuse us, I'll escort young Mr. Potter down to the hospital wing, so he can catch Mr. Zabini up on today's lessons. And inform poor Michael of his new companion. I'll let you get back to the dinner I'm sure you missed, Harry, Draco. And I do hope Anna is never this much trouble."  


They went home to two cold plates of Chinese food and had comfort sex with a heavy dose of mourning for their boy, all grown up. A new formula for Sanguinus, three months, twelve letters home, and endless arguments, hexes, and fistfights later, Jack Potter-Malfoy brought his new best friend home to meet his fathers. His sister was much amused. Chloe-the-beautiful eventually decided to forgive him, and they started dating in the Healer Academy. After all, Jack had lots of experience with healing potions. As for poor Michael Zabini, the scars eventually healed with the development of new scar reduction potions, and much to his relief, none of the other symptoms carried over either. Harry and Draco watched proudly as their son grew up to be a man.

 **\-------Some Years Down The Road-------**

The girl was pacing furiously in front of the fire, robes flaring out behind her to display skinny jeans, a neon green pleather jacket, and combat boots that were at least half a century old. She was punctuating the points in her speech by sending green sparks, blue bubbles, and occasionally small woodland creatures out of her wand as she spoke. "I am going to fail _everything_ , Grandpa Harry. I'm going to have a nervous breakdown. I will die of shock the day of the exam. I can't get a NEWT in Charms! I can't even charm my hair to lie flat!"

  
The balding man in the recliner laughed. "You'll do fine, Sam. You're perfectly intelligent, and your grandfather hasn't been tutoring you for six years for his health. It's just nerves that'll mess you up. Right, Draco?"  


Draco Malfoy-Potter, also known as Grandfather, still had most of his hair, though it was the same shocking white it had always been. He looked up from his book. "He's right, Samantha. You know all the Charms necessary to pass this examination, and some extras I'm sure the examiners have never seen before. And no matter how bad you do, you can't do worse that your Grandpa Harry. Why, this one time, at Hogwarts, he was supposed to charm a sheep blue, but it didn't work, since he was a total nincompoop back then. Instead/p>

 _I was watching as Potter waved his wand around aimlessly. He was jerking it around, not using the proper swishing movement at all, and he clearly hadn't paid attention to Professor Flitwick's lecture. I knew something bad was going to happen, but he didn't ask for help or anything. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, muttered something to the Weasel-that's Grandpa Ronny to you, young lady-and made a sharp "seven" shape in the air, aimed vaguely at his sheep. Then, a light flashed and changed his one sheep, aged ten, to ten little lambs that couldn't have been more than a year old. And of course, they immediately ran out of the classroom and down the hallway. The last ewe wasn't found for three days, when Hannah Abbot and Longbottom, yes, your Headmaster, found the runt of the group eating Madrake leaves in Greenhouse three. I don't think anyone had studied the effect of Mandrake leaves on sheep before, but that sheep lived for thirty years, and whenever it said 'baa' from then on, people would get these pounding headaches. I think the Hufflepuffs kept it as a pet. Anyway, let's just say that he had to practice that charm a lot._

"And so, Samantha, even if you bollocks up your Charm work, at least you'll know _where_ you went wrong. To this day, I don't know what the charm was that I ended up doing. I'm sure Draco could figure it out if he really, truly tried. But you know your Grandfather; he'll keep me in the dark just so he can rub it in my face."  


The girl sighed. "I guess so. Thanks, Grandpa, Grandfather."  


She pecked them each on the cheek and Disapparated away in a whirl of robes. Harry Potter smiled at his husband. "You know, that reminds me of a story about you. This one time, at Hogwarts..."  


 **The End!**

**Author's Note:**

> Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy and other Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling and her associated businesses. The Harry/Draco World Cup and its participants make no claim upon them.


End file.
